


A Sunday Drive

by SaoirseKennedy



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst, Family Drama, Fluff, Gen, M/M, church, sunday drives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 05:51:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7964923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaoirseKennedy/pseuds/SaoirseKennedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a prompt from Dancinguniverse: Sunday Drives. Dealing with Lew's father can only be handled in a cozy Chevy on a Sunday morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sunday Drive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dancinguniverse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancinguniverse/gifts).



> For dancinguniverse. I'm sorry this is so angsty. You know me.

Uptown was nearly abandoned, at least in the way that New York City can be abandoned. Just a few people milled about, rushing with their umbrellas through the soddy cold rain of October, pulling at their children who wanted to ruin their Sunday shoes in the puddles on the sidewalks; men held tightly onto their hats with the slight gushes of wind, and at an intersection, a woman was shielding her precious match from the fat droplets pelting her head, trying desperately to light a cigarette. 

Usually Dick hated this kind of weather, especially right after church. The clouds were so thick that not even a ray of sunshine was able to get through the dark gray. If Dick closed his eyes, he could convince himself that it was dark enough to be nighttime. 

But today, Dick couldn’t be happier that the sun had decided to take a day off. He drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel, glancing in the direction of the passenger seat every few seconds. The radio created a barrier for the silence, but Dick knew it wouldn’t last long. He couldn’t let anything go, and in this situation, he didn’t think it would be right to stay silent. 

Nixon, his surly companion, caught onto the situation when Dick passed their brownstone on the Upper West Side. He drives, despite his immediate blush when he sees Nix staring at him. He bites his tongue, determined to make Nixon speak before he does. 

Even when he’s grumpy and out of sorts, Nix always manages to be biting. “Dick, could you tell me, what in the Hell, you are doing?” he speaks slowly, and his voice is gruff, from disuse, and probably something else. Dick notices, of course, but doesn’t comment on it. 

He fixes Lew with a pointed look, one he hopes is more expressive than any of his usual faces. “Lewis, how long have we been with each other?” he turns the windshield wipers up, as the rain has decided to begin a real assault on the Sunday morning. 

“You mean, how long have we known each other,” Nix isn’t looking at him anymore. “Or how long have we  _ known each other _ ?” it’s not as playful as it could’ve been under different circumstances. 

Dick smiles anyways. “Lew, I-” 

“Oh, it doesn’t matter I guess. There isn’t really a difference to me,” this made Dick pause. Nix was able to throw truth around casually. Granted, it wasn’t often, and most of the time Dick had to pry it out of him. When it came to Dick, though, Lewis was always able to be candid. Dick didn’t know if he was deserving of such candor. 

“My point,” Dick pushes on. “Is that, you know we have to talk about this.”

“I don’t know anything,” Nix says petulantly. And there was the Nixon that came out when he was supremely stubborn, his feelings being ground into the dust before Dick’s eyes. Dick knew, beyond his own frustration with Lewis, that this behavior was really about Lew himself, about the kind of life he’d been forced to live before the war, not about Dick’s approach to reaching out to him. 

He also knew that Lew couldn’t hide from him forever, no matter how hard he tried. He thanked God for making him Lew’s weak spot. 

“Have you decided yet?” Dick cut to the heart of the dilemma at hand. The one that Nixon had made clear that he didn’t want to bring up. 

His father, however, had made sure to intercept them in church that morning. 

“Lewis,” he grabbed at Lew’s wrist the moment the service had ended in the big old church. It was done in a familiar way, a childhood habit that had never died. Lewis seemed to make himself smaller, to keep his arm away from himself, as if he could disassociate from his own arm, as long as his father was attached to it. 

Lew had jerked his head at Dick, flashing wide, almost fearful eyes at him, silently begging him to leave, so as not to get sucked into his father’s orbit. Dick faltered then, stuck in place in the marble hallway. He had Lew’s jacket on his arm, was about to help him into it, and then Stanhope had marched in, and suddenly Lew wasn’t his anymore. 

Lewis and his father were gone and around the corner before Dick could respond. It was a far sight from the Dick Winters who had landed on Normandy, and he tried not to take it too hard. He wasn’t expected to be the same man here, the same domineering, quick-acting man who had dozens, if not hundreds of men in his care. But he did have Lew, and for a moment Stanhope seemed scarier than any Nazi. 

And so Dick waited outside St. Patrick’s, with the dark clouds growing darker, threatening to spill onto Dick’s red hair. He leaned against the church, seeking shelter under the small ledge of the old stone. He picked at the fuzz of Lew’s jacket, and he kept it close to his chest. Dick felt small, anxious, and his always restless legs seemed to want to carry him back through the church. He wanted to run, march into whatever small room Stan had Lew in, and pull him away. He wanted to wrap his jacket around him, and make him wait in the church until he could get the car, because Lew couldn’t get wet in the inevitable rain of New York. And when they got home, Dick would tuck him into some much nicer room, and wipe any memories from the morning away. 

Before Dick could do all of this, however, Lewis sauntered out of the front doors, slamming the heavy wood, disturbing the quiet morning. He took his jacket from Dick without a word, and lit a cigarette just as the first drops of rain began to fall. 

“What do you mean?” Nix says, back in the car. “There’s nothing to decide. I’m not going back to New Jersey.” 

“Not that I’m not glad to hear that,” Dick rounds a corner, grateful for the distraction. “But, your father, he--,” Dick swallows, trying to stop the surge of anger bubbling in his stomach. 

“Dick,” Nixon tries valiantly to remain casual, but Dick is smart enough to know better. “This is the not the first time my father has threatened to ruin my life,” he attempts to light another cigarette, but quits after a few seconds. Dick has a flash of Harry in the forests of France, or Holland. Maybe it was Germany. Dick can’t remember. 

“Besides,” Lew continues. “It isn’t even the first time he’s actually ruined it,” the truth stings. 

“So what’s the plan, Lew?” he almost has to yell over the continuing rain. Thunder has started, and Dick knows he should start to head home. 

“Dick,” Nix picks at the leather seat. “He knows about us. He’s determined to ruin my life because of it. He’ll ruin your life too, if only by proxy,” Nix waits for Dick to say something. He’s met with silence. “I won’t drag you down with me.” 

Dick actually snorts. “Lewis,” he says, laughing, looking at Nix’s face. He expects to see something resembling self-sacrifice, but is met with a face that has already begun to let go. It hits Dick like a body slam to the floor. He suddenly looks to the road, desperate for somewhere to stop. 

He finds the first open space on the city road, and parks hastily. The rain has become almost deafening. If he could, he would smother Nix right then and there, attach himself to Nix, ensure that he is burned onto Lew. It grips him wholly and he feels like he could be in Holland again, afraid for stray bullets in Lew’s helmet. 

“Look, let’s get one thing straight,” he points his finger at Nix, completely serious, completely commanding. “I’m not just gonna leave, the first sign of trouble,” he has the sense to be offended. “In fact, when have I ever made you think I would?” 

The car is full of baggage both Lew and Dick brought with them from past experiences. Some of it has been unpacked, but an alarming amount has been left untouched. Dick feels it like a physical force. 

“I’m not saying you would, I’m saying that-”

“No, that’s exactly what you’re saying, but you’re trying to do it first. You’re doing it before I would have the chance,” Dick doesn’t say it in an angry way; he bites to the bone of the issue, even though he knows Lew will flare with emotion. 

“My father will ruin everything. He’ll tell everyone, he’ll disown me. I don’t know if I’ll get arrested, if I’ll lose all my money, if Blanche or my mother will ever talk to me again. Dick, you’ve got a future, in New York, or Pennsylvania, or anywhere you want to go. If you get caught up in this, with me, it could destroy everything,” he was almost begging. 

“So I suppose this is you being noble,” Dick surprises himself with his sneering retort. 

“Don’t be cruel,” Nix checks. “Please.” 

“Me? Don’t push me away. That’s cruel,” Dick says, back to his even tone. 

“I just don’t want you to think you have to stay,” Nix says in an impossibly small voice. 

Dick realizes Nix has been saying this to everyone he’s ever met. They don’t have to stay with Nix, because apparently the very existence of Lewis Nixon is too big a burden for anyone to handle, long-term. When Lew can’t be the quick-witted, funny, bright soldier he tries so hard to be, then that’s when they have permission to leave. Obviously, Nix thinks he’s putting on a show, he’s fooling people into thinking he’s better than he is. When he thinks they see the so-called real Nixon, he assumes people will want to bail. Why should Dick be any different? 

Dick slides back in the seat. He crosses his arms, and clears his throat. “Lewis,” he says loudly, trying to startle attention from Lew across the seat. “When I first met you, you had just come from Fort Dix. You were a Yalie, you swore, you hated sports, and for a while I thought your aftershave was whiskey scented,” he sees Nix weakly chuckle. “You were worlds away from me.” 

“You should’ve run away the first chance you had,” Lew cuts in.

“That’s the thing,” Dick rounds on him. “It’s not like we were forced together, Nix. Sure, for basic officer training, we were thrown together with all the other boys, but for the most part, we were assigned to different tracks,” he looks at Nix until Nix looks back. “Is any of this ringing a bell?” 

“Yeah, Dick,” Nix takes a shaky breath. 

“I sought you out,” Dick recounts. “You were funny, and you didn’t take yourself too seriously, Lew.” 

“What’s your point?”

“I just liked you,” Dick says simply. 

“Well, Hell, Dick,” Nixon has to stop himself from moving away from Dick. He twists his hands together, and Dick thinks maybe he’ll jump out of the car. 

“But then we were in England, and I was looking for you every morning. I was doing drills and reading field manuals, and all of the sudden, your face would pop up in my mind. The funny thing you said to me during one of Sobel’s rants would crop up in my mind, and I’d laugh again, like I’d never heard it before,” Dick talks like he’s having a revelation. 

“Dick, come on,” Lewis is back to begging. 

“I know you don’t like this,” Dick allows. “But I need you to know.”

“Dick,” is all Lew can say. 

“We were best friends,” Dick looks past Lewis. “And then we were more. I thought it would be complicated, but it wasn’t,” Dick says. “I’m not saying this to make you uncomfortable, or to manipulate you,” Dick says as a buffer. “I’m saying it because I don’t think anyone has ever told you before,” for a moment he feels blinding anger for everyone who has ever left Lewis. “I want to be here.” 

Lewis looks absolutely agonized. 

“I’m not leaving, Lew,” Dick says. “Your father be damned.” 

Thunder cracks on the Sunday morning, and Dick feels the vulnerability threaten to swallow him up. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” Lew says brokenly. 

Dick melts just a little bit. “I know you don’t,” he holds Lew’s hand on the seat, low from the windows, away from a harsh world. “Please don’t put words in my mouth, Lew. Don’t think I feel anything besides love for you,” Dick forces himself to say. It’s sticky in his mouth, and the truth is scarier than anything he’s faced before. “I need you just as much as you need me.”

This startles words out of Lew. “I very seriously doubt that,” he groans. 

“Yeah, I know you do,” Dick nods. He lets the heavy mood sit for a second. “I guess I’ll just have to be extra needy, then,” he smiles up at Lew. 

To his horror, Lew’s face screws up in something looking like immense sadness. There’s a small tear in the corner of Lew’s left eye, but Dick doesn’t think Lew’s noticed yet. A choked sob tries to escape Lew’s throat, but he clamps a hand over his mouth. 

“It was a joke!” Dick rushes. He grabs Lew’s shoulders. 

“I know!” Lew shouts back. “Richard Winters! Making jokes! At a time like this!” Dick thinks he’s gone insane. “Jesus H. Christ!” 

“Calm down!” Dick watches Lew shake a bit. 

“Oh Dick, I’m fine,” Lewis wipes the tear away. He slips Dick’s hands off of him, and he sighs loudly. 

“Are you sure?” Dick croaks. He feels like he has whiplash. 

“Of course I am,” Nix is laughing now, just proving his insanity. 

Dick watches Nix closely, anxious for any signs of panic or withdrawal. Nix laughs for a little while longer, but eventually it is drowned out by the rain. Then, they are left there, in the muggy Chevy, with the rain pouring around them, thousands of words just begging to be said in the pregnant air. 

Dick doesn’t think they’ll get around to it, however. 

“My father be damned?” Nix asks, a vague smirk on his lips. 

Dick blushes at his previous drama, but feels a twist of anger again at Stanhope. There’s a moment where he wants to rant, to try to remedy all the wrongs that Nix faced, but he knows there’s too much to fix in the space of his small Chevy. 

“Come on Lew,” Dick goes for lighthearted, grabbing Nix’s hand again. “You know what I mean.” 

“Yeah, I do,” Nix laughs again, and the tension in his voice eases. “What if I get disowned?” 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re a college educated man, you can get any job you want,” Dick soothes. “You know I don’t really care about that anyways.” 

“Richard Winters,” Nix says, bringing Dick’s hand up to his lips for a quick, dangerous kiss. “No flaws, no vices,” he pauses, watching Dick. “Maybe a little sense of humor.” 

“Lew,” Dick says. 

“Alright, take me home,” Lew says. The rain continues, and as Dick pulls out of the parking lot, Lew rests his head on Dick’s shoulder, in defiance to the world, and more importantly, to his father. 


End file.
